A Winter Night
by nottheonlyfanaround
Summary: In which a prince wishes to get away from tea and meet his lover instead.


School: Ilvermorny

Theme: Royal AU

Prompt (Main): Snowing [Weather]

Prompt (Extras): A Teacup [Object], Ron Weasley [Character]

Year: Year 3

Word Count: 1732

**AU Warning(s): Royal AU, Muggle AU.**

* * *

The snow was fluttering down softly outside, pale specks falling almost daintily from the clouds above the palace. Yet he was stuck inside, sipping tea from a very elegant teacup, sitting across from one of his best friends, and waiting for a reprieve from the dull one-sided conversation he was having. He was honestly barely listening to her, only hearing bits and pieces of what she was saying. Something about one of her ladies in waiting - Hermione Granger, or at least that's what he heard Pansy call her. It was quite plausible that he had heard wrong.

A barely audible sigh escaped his lips as she droned on and on - he didn't have time for this right now. After all, Ron must have been waiting in the frigid snow for nearly have an hour now, most likely wondering if the prince had stood him up. He almost smiled at the image that popped into his head, his freckled lover standing outside in the snow, bundled in many layers to keep himself warm. God, he could imagine the pale snowflakes settling in a harsh contrast to Ron's fiery red hair. It was a lovely thought, yet - as with all lovely things - Pansy had to ruin his moment.

"Blaise!" Pansy shrieked at him, his gaze to moved from the window to settle on her scowling features.

"What?" he replied, tone reeking of boredom. Pansy rolled her eyes at him.

"Did you - I don't know - listen to a single word I was saying?" she asked him incredulously. He stared at her, resting a hand over his chest in clearly faked astonishment.

"Of course not," he began, "I have much more important things to do than listen to you rant about how Hermione Granger refuses to acknowledge your interest in courting her."

"Like what?" Pansy retorted, rolling her eyes once more as Blaise took yet another sip from his teacup. He looked back out the window as he set the dainty teacup back down onto it's plate - the snow looked so soft and beautiful from inside the warm palace. He wished he could just go out and play in it for hours like he used to as a child, or at least go and meet Ron, who he was sure was fed up with waiting out in the snow. He mentally cursed Pansy for arriving without notifying him first. Though Blaise figured he should have known she would do _something_ \- after all, she _did_ quite enjoy ruining his plans.

"That," Blaise replied, crimson beginning to creep up his neck, "is _none_ of your business."

He had never been the best at relationships, or even speaking about them. Rarely he would tell Draco Malfoy about who he fancied - Draco being his only other good friend. But that was far different from letting Pansy in on it - after all, Draco could keep a secret, Pansy could not. And god forbid his mother find out - that would be a nightmare, one he didn't quite want to think about just now. Certainly not when the prospect of getting out of the palace was growing ever so close. Pansy sipped the tea from her teacup daintily, a mischievous smile growing on her features. He _had to_ get out of there before she tore the information from him.

"Who is she?" came Pansy's query as he stood up and began walking to the door.

"It's a _he_ actually," Blaise replied as he wrapped a warm winter cloak around himself, "and again, it's none of your business."

Pansy huffed in annoyance, her pale teacup clanking down harshly onto the table. It was almost adorable how she slumped in her chair and narrowed her eyes - _almost_.

"Thank you," he began, slipping into his boots, "for the tea and your company. But I really must be going now."

And with that he slipped out of the room, looking out the tall windows as he moved hastily through the palace halls. The snow fluttered down harsher now, and he pulled the cloak's hood over himself as he stepped outside. He moved swiftly to the stables, getting his horse ready and hopping on. Blaise began his short ride to the nobler part of town - the only part his mother would allow him in - allowing the snow to fall on his face every now and again. The snow impaired his vision slightly, but he was still able to spot a glint of red hair through the flurries of white. A grin took over his features as he saw the cold and smiling face of Ronald Weasley.

He felt bad for making Ron wait for him at the edge of town every time they met up, though it wasn't his fault that he had a god awful sense of direction - something he was positive he'd inherited from his mother. Yet Ron still gladly waited in their corner of town for him, each and every single time. It was absolutely adorable to Blaise - his boyfriend's insistence on doing everything he could to help. He couldn't wait till he turned eighteen, then he could officially court Ron, and announce it to the public. Then he could just invite Ron, who had a good sense of direction, to the palace and they could avoid doing this every time they wanted to hang out. Ron, he was sure, would _love_ the palace. He shook his head, focusing on the present and hopping off of his horse.

"Your highness," Ron greeted in a playful tone, dipping into an overly deep bow, causing him to fall over into the snow. Blaise chuckled, helping the redhead off the ground with a grin. Ron's face was flushed crimson, though whether that was from embarrassment or the cold weather Blaise couldn't be certain. While Ron had a brilliant sense of direction, his sense of balance was subpar - and that was on his good days. Ron began leading Blaise towards his home in a comfortable silence, the only sound for a good while came from the horse's hooves clopping across the cobblestone street.

"I'm sorry," Blaise began, looking guiltily at Ron, "for making you wait so long."

"As I've said many times before," said Ron with a comforting smile, "it's not a problem."

"Still," Blaise added, "I feel bad."

"It's fine," Ron insisted. Blaise only looked down towards the ground guiltily, no matter how many times his freckled lover insisted it was alright - insisted that he didn't mind the waiting, Blaise didn't think he would ever _stop_ feeling guilty for it.

"Hey," Ron said softly, reaching up to cup Blaise's face, "look at me."

Blaise looked down at him reluctantly, gazing softly into the warm chocolate brown eyes of the man he loved. God - he loved those eyes. They made him melt, which was something Ron absolutely knew, and - much to Blaise's dismay - was taking full advantage of.

"It's _fine_." Ron leaned up for a soft kiss, and they stood like that in the snow for a moment. Blaise pulled away first, staring lovingly at Ron's face. His eyes were still closed, as if he was locking the moment into his memory. Blaise couldn't help but smile at the image, the snow falling softly onto Ron's face and settling onto his eyelashes. Ron's eyes fluttered open as he pulled away from Blaise - though he nearly tripped on the cobblestone as he tried to turn to the front. Blaise snorted, though tried to cover it with a cough. Ron grabbed onto Blaise's hand, and continued leading him down the street and to his house.

"Still," Blaise said, causing Ron to groan in a playful annoyance, "I feel like I should make it up to you sometime."

"Well, if you insist on making it up to me," began Ron with a grin, "you _could_ always stay for supper."

Blaise smiled down at his lover's hopeful brown eyes. He couldn't say no this time, God, he couldn't really _ever_ say no to Ron.

"I would _love_ to," Blaise began, "but are you sure your family wouldn't mind?"

"They'll be honored," Ron chuckled, "_trust me_."

They continued walking for a minute or so, finally reaching the Weasley family home and tying up Blaise's horse to a post outside. Ron rapped sharply on his worn down front door - his house, compared to the houses of other nobles on the street, was less fancy and slightly more run down. But Blaise loved it, in his eyes it added more character. The door swung open just as Ron was about to knock again, and the kind face of Molly Weasley popped into view.

"Ah you're finally home," Molly began, not noticing Blaise at first, "just in time too, your father should arrive home any minute now."

Her gaze quickly found Blaise, though, and her face morphed into one of surprise. She quickly sunk into a curtsey, giving Ron a sharp glare from the corners of her eyes.

"Your Highness," she greeted him respectfully, "Ron hadn't informed me you were accompanying him today."

"Please," he replied, gesturing for her to stand up, "there's no need for such formalities."

She stood slowly, a smile growing onto her face once more.

"He's not just here for a cup of tea Mum," Ron began giddily, "he's agreed to stay for dinner too!"

Blaise chuckled at his boyfriend's excitement. Ron pulled him into the warm house, where Fred - one of Ron's older brothers - stood stoking the fire. His twin brother George stood washing the dishes in their home, cleaning the teacups. Blaise couldn't help but notice that they lacked some of the ornate designs his teacups had. He made a mental note to bring some over, they would surely be happy with more ornate teacups.

"So," Ron asked, "what type of tea do you want?"

Blaise contemplated informing Ron that he'd already had a cup of tea that day, and that he really didn't need another one. Yet one look at Ron's hopeful brown eyes had him melting and giving in. Ron didn't need to know, and it couldn't hurt to have another cup of tea. Especially if it meant making his boyfriend happy. Blaise smiled as he sat down on their plush chairs.

"I'd love a cup of Earl Grey," he replied with a loving smile. Ron nodded and dashed away to prepare the tea. Blaise sighed. He never could say no.

_**Not when it came to Ron Weasley anyway.**_


End file.
